


Are You Lost, Dear

by Muucifer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Affection, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Little Red Riding Hood, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bro as the Wolf, Consensual, Fluff, M/M, Sex in the Open, Size Difference, brotherly striders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muucifer/pseuds/Muucifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John walks the same path through the deepest part of the forest, where no light dares touch, all the time. It was considered dangerous, but he's never had a problem.</p><p>Cue one stalker Wolf and a vaguely secretive Nanna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello, Dear

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lot of me practicing small world building, so it's got kind of a slow build up. (But not super slow obviously, it's only 3 chapters)
> 
> My sweetie [Tomo](http://starfish-are-stickers.tumblr.com) helped me out a lot with this! She's awesome. Any errors are probably mine ugh  
> As always, you can talk to me on either of my blogs I love hearing from people and requests are open.  
> [Writin' blog](http://lucifer-writes.tumblr.com)  
> [Main blog](http://muucifer.tumblr.com)  
> 

It’s dark in the deepest part of the forest, the rare streaks of light filtering through the trees illuminate the path just enough to see it. There’s no noise, only the occasional crow of a bird and the ominous rustle of bushes. No wind reaches here, and no people come this deep. It’s pointless, really, to be this far in. There were shorter trails to take through less dense parts of the forest and few animals even wandered this deep. The only creatures that dared to venture this far were wolves and other less than kindly animals. It was considered much too dangerous to be a main route, only daring hunters had cause to go this deep. Daring hunters and one young boy.

John walked this path every other day. He lived with his father in a break in the woods, a small area with a shallow brook and plenty of grass where the sun beamed down on the roof and garden. An hour walk in one direction brought them to the edge of the woods where a town sat. An hour walk in the other direction brought them through the dark part of the forest and to Nanna’s house. They’d lived in the forest for so long John didn’t remember ever not living there. In fact, his father had always lived there as well, in Nanna’s house at the center of the forest.

She lived in a similar home, settled in the middle of clearing with a small water source and a ring of trees around the “yard.” John figures the whole forest is his yard, even though the tree line surrounding the houses would be a fence line in town. And as long as his Dad had lived in the forest with Nanna, his father couldn’t remember ever not living there either. John wasn’t sure what happened to his mom or his grandpa, but they were never around as far as he or his Dad could remember and his father hadn’t been too keen on telling him what had happened to his mother. They’d been in the forest for so long Nanna refused tell them how she’d ended up there, so they just assumed they had always been there.

He wasn’t quite sure how they got the houses, either. They were hand built, not unlike a cabin, and were petite and cute. The kind of houses you’d expect a little old lady to live in, with lacy curtains and knit covers over the furniture. His house was decorated much the same way except the stray town-bought toys lingering around. Their houses were the picture of quaint and always smelled of fresh baked food.

Ever since he was young John remembered his Dad in the kitchen with the oven on. It was made of brick with an open flame, and it left the house comfortably warm and delicious smelling. Bread, cake, brownies, rolls, his father baked anything and everything, all by hand with fresh berries and vegetables from the garden. He supposed that it was something that he wouldn’t know how to do without if one day it was just gone. Nanna had taught his father and his father was teaching him. They were a family that knew their way around the stove.

But Nanna had been sick, too weak to stand long and bake her own bread, and much too weak to even consider venturing into town to buy food and supplies. So every other day Dad packed a basket with a fresh loaf of bread, a small cake, and a tub of homemade soup; enough to last her until John came back two days later. And every other day John bundled up, tucked the basket in tight with a cloth to keep everything warm, and hiked the hour through the deepest part of the forest to her house.

There were rules his Dad made him follow; don’t stop for anything or anyone, don’t leave the trail, and always go straight there and straight back. John was sure to listen to every rule, he knew of the dangerous things that lived in the dark part of the woods. He heard the howls at night of wolves too large to be natural and too fast to be outrun. He didn’t hide that the journey terrified him, but he kept his head held high and his eyes on the path ahead. A faux air of confidence kept most smaller things away though he knew it’d do nothing to stop a wolf.

Every time his father would give him a hug, hand him his bundle, and offer his cloak with a simple “love you son, be safe.” And every time, John wrapped his cloak around him and would take the bundle, hug back, and reciprocate the “love you” with an added “I will” tacked on.

In town, he was spotted by his cloak easily. The townspeople had grown fond the little boy with the cute hood trotting along with his father. John loved his hood. It wasn’t too heavy, but it wasn’t too light, something that could easily be worn in any season. It protected him from rain, snow, sleet and from harsh sunlight. It was blue, but not a sad blue, rather the happy blue mixing the sea and sky and was easy on the eyes. The pure white lace that had once lined the bottom edges of both the cloak and hood pieces was an off white, but wasn’t frayed or torn. The fabric was still soft to the touch, even after all the years he’s had it. But he’d taken very good care of it, after all Nanna had made it for him when he was little. It had come down past his knees, then. Now, he’d almost outgrown it, the material barely touching mid thigh. It was still well adored though, and John didn’t think he’d ever have the heart to throw it away.

As much as he loved his cloak, he doubted very much it would save him from wolves. Still, it was like a security blanket to him and he pretended it would shield him from any danger he may encounter. It certainly made him feel safer while he ventured through the trees.

While he walked the light grew more scarce and the air chilled. The basket on his arm seemed to grow heavier every day he went, and today was no exception. Still, he tucked it tighter to his body and dragged the cloak a bit closer and kept going forward. He neared the exact center of his trip; a huge stone with a flat top perched in the middle of the forest. He wasn’t sure what it was for, or if it was even for anything. Markings that were once carved into it were faded, and chunks of it were broken off. It made a good landmark though, so he never questioned it too much.

Everyone knew the forest was ancient. In town there were people who studied how old it was and what sort of ancient civilization had once inhabited it. This wasn’t the only odd thing in the forest, several other smaller structures were scattered about and small shrine like things surrounded the very edge of the forest. John had heard that the people who used to live there had done it for protection, but he wasn’t sure what they’d need protection from. Then again, maybe the wolves were a thing to be protected from. Maybe they really were larger than the average wolf.

He shuddered and decided to cut that train of thought short. No need to freak himself out. There was nothing to be frightened of. There were no giant mutated wolves in the forest! He was just unusually imaginative!

An unusually loud crack of brush nearby made John yelp and dash forward a few steps. He forced himself to not look back and kept his head stubbornly facing front. A crow screeched a few yards above him and he whimpered, curling in on himself. He just had to scare himself, didn’t he?

So engrossed in not looking around, John missed two orange eyes tracking his movements down the path, missed the large fanged grin and long claws tightening around a branch. If he’d looked back, he would have seen the huge wolf stalking him. But he didn’t and the wolf was pleased.

And as the wolf crept up behind him, slowly and silently, John went blissfully unaware. He inched closer and closer, careful to not make a sound as he neared the boy. John hunched in a little more, shivering as a breeze ruffled the hood around him. It never dawned on him that the wind never reached this far in the forest. He knew it didn’t, had tested the fact himself on windy days when the trees near the edge of the forest or near his house bent and twisted under the pressure from the winds. He knew the wind didn’t touch the inner forest, but he didn’t think about this little breeze because he didn’t know he was being followed by a wolf.

John also didn’t know that this same wolf had been watching him every time he went to Nanna’s. He always sat near the boy’s landmark, hidden deep in the bushes, and memorized every aspect of John. From the way his hair flipped and waved out from underneath the lip of the hood, to his blue eyes dulled by the lack of sunlight, and to every freckle on his face. The wolf knew exactly how far John’s upper teeth jutted out over his bottom lip, knew how John had little cracks in his lips from where he chewed his buckteeth into the plump area. It was terrifying really, how much he knew of John’s appearance. He also knew where Nanna’s house was, and could have easily made a meal of her and John while they visited. But he didn’t. Because that’s not what he wanted.

When a huge clawed hand grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards, John barely had time to scream before the other hand was slapped over his mouth. On instinct, John sunk his front teeth into the meat of the hand, but it did nothing to deter his attacker. It seemed, instead, to spur him on. The hand on his arm was suddenly holding his waist and John’s feet were off the ground. This time, John attempted to kick, flailing quite uselessly in the air. His screaming was muffled, and he was getting a bit woozy from the lack of air to his lungs. He reached up and his hand scrabbled across the other’s, trying to pull them off or loosen them. Warm breath ghosted over his ear and a low growl vibrated through his back.

Tears sprung up in his eyes and, sobbing, John went limp in the hold, arms nothing more than wet noodles as he still pitifully swatted at his attacker. Everything around him was warm, too warm, and the bare skin pressed against his was nearly scalding. John began to plead, but the words were lost into the palm still hushing him. He cried openly, water dripping down his face and leaving streaks in its wake.

The wolf chuckled and held the boy against his chest, watching him struggle and eventually concede. Then he lifted the hand keeping the boy muffled away and brushed the water marks off his face, watching him stiffen and stare wide-eyed at him.

John’s voice was cracking when he tried to speak, “Please, oh God, please don’t hurt me. I don’t have anything for you. Please, just let me go.” The wolf eyed him before smirking and pinching his cheeks.

“Kid, I don’t want anything from you. Don’t you know anythin’ ‘bout the forest? Little brats shouldn’t be wanderin’ through or they’ll get eaten.” He punctuates his sentence with a sharp grin, all pointy teeth and dangerous. John whimpers, shaking his head and the tears start up again.

“Please I live here, I’m going to my Nanna’s.” The wolf rolls his eyes, and John notices the two fluffy ears perched on top of his head. They twitch, and flatten under his gaze and he lets out a wrecked gasp, before launching into a flurry of begging. “You’re a wolf! Please don’t eat me I don’t taste good oh God please let me go! Please. Please...” He is cut short by the wolf snapping his hand over his mouth again.

“Spot on, kid. I’m a wolf. But I’m not gonna eat ya. Not gonna hurt ya, either. In fact, see here, I’m gonna take ya all the way to your Nanna’s. Think of me as a personal guard.” Dark eyebrows shot up over the thick rims of his glasses and John gave him a skeptical look. His voice was a bit more steady when he talked again.

“From what? And what makes you think I’m going to trust you? You’re probably going to take me there so you know where Nanna is and then eat me and her!”

“God, you’re stupid aren’t you.” John flushes and huffs indignantly, looking away. “I already know where you live, and where your dear sweet Nanna lives. If I’d wanted to, I could have had you for dinner a while ago. I’ve been watchin’ you, kid. And there are others watchin’ you too.” He’s lying of course, but John doesn’t know that. No one in the forest would dare come anywhere near the boy, not with him being labeled as property.

“O-oh. Well I don’t need your help, thanks.” John went back to wriggling, attempting to escape once again. The wolf let him go, dropping him to the ground and watching John stumble and fall flat on his face. He stood back up, wiped himself off, and tried to stalk off. He only got a few feet before he tripped and landed sprawled across the forest floor once more. The wolf openly barked a laugh at this, and moved to pull him up. He brushed John off and patted his back.

“Sure ya don’t, kid. Can’t even walk five feet without fallin’ on your face. Come on.” John huffed again, but followed after him. After a few moments of awkward silence, he regained his nerves and piped up, the chipper in his voice only partially faked.

“So what’s your name?”

“Ain’t tellin’ ya. Call me Bro, everyone else does.”

John scoffed, “Bro? Seriously? Laaaaame. I’m John.” It went through his mind that he shouldn’t tell the wolf that, but at that point it really didn’t matter to him. If Bro was going to make a meal of him then it wouldn’t matter if he knew John’s name or not, and he had heard somewhere that a murderer is more likely to let someone live if the victim told them their name, so maybe it was a good idea. Either way it was too late for regrets.

This time Bro scowled down at him, and suddenly John felt very small and like, maybe, the snark wasn’t a good idea at all. He hadn’t realised before, but he was quite a bit taller than him, towering over the little male. John was at least a foot and a half shorter, and quite a bit more soft.

Bro, John noticed, was very well built. His muscles were defined under his shirt, and his legs corded and long. He was tall by normal male standards, and the ears only made him seem taller. He was attractive with a strong jaw and hard eyes. Broad shoulders tapered into his waist which was a bit narrow, but John could see the outline of his abs through the tight white fabric stretched over them. This informed him that Bro was, by no means, scrawny. His whole body was sharp angles and thick lines, leaving John feeling inadequate with his small body and the soft curves of a child.

Despite how lax it would seem to an outsider, the air was tense and John, every now and then, would shoot a distrusting peek up at the wolf. The wolf would then throw a sneaky look at the boy, sizing him up and focusing on all he memorized about the frail body next to him. John squeaked when clawed fingers tugged on his hood, stuttering his steps. He shot an offended glare at the wolf who just smirked back at him. Bro’s finger traced the edge of the fabric, rubbing the lace and occasionally giving it a quick pull just to watch the boy squirm.

They walked in relative silence until Nanna’s house came into view. John turned around, facing the wolf with a weary expression. Then he nodded his head back towards the clearing, “Uhm, there’s Nanna’s. Obviously nothing attacked me besides you so I’ll be fine. Thank you, you can leave now.” His words practically tripped over themselves on their way out of his mouth, and with what he wanted to say said, he turned to rush away.

Bro caught the hood and yanked him back, dropping his hand onto the young boy’s head to keep him from darting off. “Woah, brat hold on. I’m gonna wait right here for you, and I’m gonna walk your ungrateful ass back to your house. Don’t argue.” He added the last part when John puffed out his cheeks and opened his mouth to say something.

With that said, John pouted up at him for a full minute- Bro felt tempted to inform him just where pouting would get him- before he spun back around and jogged into the clearing. He didn’t stop until he found himself standing in front of the heavy wood door, panting to catch his breath. Bro watched him for a moment longer before sitting down under a large tree, its roots bulging out and creating a comfy spot for him to nestle down in, and dozed off. He was positive John’s visit with Nanna would last at least a half an hour and could last up to an hour. John had a very predictable schedule, after all.

John rapped his knuckles against the front door and called out, “Nanna, I’ve come to visit!” before opening it and stepping inside. He was greet with the scent that he’d always associated with Nanna. It was a pleasant aroma; Cinnamon, flowers- lilacs and lavender- and citrus. It reminded him of being small enough to be carried on his father’s back while they walked through the forest, small enough to be coddled and cooed at while he sniffled into his Nanna’s shirt when he scraped his knee, and small enough to be set on the counter while she baked. A nostalgic scent. Her home was just as much of his home as his own, and he spent a great deal of time there with his Dad.

Nannay lay in her bed, knitting utensils stretched across it, and she waved at him when he closed the door. She chuckled her cute “hoo hoo hoo” when he placed the basket next to her on the bedside table. He informs her it’s Broccoli and cheese soup- thick and creamy the way she likes it- fresh wheat bread, and plain white cake with buttermilk frosting. John whizzed about the house and kitchen, hunting down the utensils she’d need, as well a plate and bowl, with care and practiced movements. She grabbed the lapboard from its place propped against the bedside table and set it on the bed. When everything was gathered, he carefully extracted each from the basket, making sure to lay them out on her lapboard in the most convenient arrangement; bread off to the side, soup in front with the spoon, and cake in the corner on its own little plate with a small fork. With everything all ready, he placed the rest in the fridge and set his basket by the door, then settling in the chair next to the bed. He watched over her while she nibbled at the food, taking small spoonfuls and tiny bites of bread, and they made small talk.

She asked how everything is at home, he told her it was good and that Dad should be coming to see her soon. She asked if he has been careful on the way, he told her of course he had and that nothing ever bothers him anyway. For a moment, her eyes twinkled, and she peered at him. He thought she might have seen through his lie. But she didn’t say anything and after a moment went back to her food. The quiet in the house still felt a bit tense after that, but it relaxed again when she told him she’d had enough of the soup and he took it from her. While he put that in the fridge with the other things, she started on the cake.

Nanna always ate the cake. There was never a single bite left by the next time he came. Sometimes, there would be a small amount of soup or a piece of bread. Never any cake though. It was a part of her though, and John always appreciated how small and portly she was. She gave the best hugs and he figured her roundness was to blame. Her kitchen was always brimming with pies and cakes, brownies and tarts while his father was more a bread kind of man- though he still made more cakes than either of them could ever eat which is why they’d begun to be used in pranks and traps set up around the house. John had gotten a face full of frosting more times than he cared to admit. Nanna preferred to make cakes. They were always delicately decorated; with brightly colored swirls and fancy patterns. Her pies had intricately laid lattices, and John always looked forward to being able to see the filling bubble up around them in the oven.

When she finished, he cleared the board and rinsed the utensils out in the sink, then washed the rest of the dishes. The drying rag went in the pile of laundry, he’d have to wash them next time, and he grabbed a new one. After he washed and dried the dishes she had accumulated since he was here last he tucked them all away in the cupboards. John fetched her a glass of water and handed her the medicine she was supposed to take. Nanna grumbled about it, but does it with little resistance. With his visit chores done, John pulled his cloak back on, flipping up the hood and adjusting his glasses, plucked up his basket and waved one final goodbye to her before leaving.

John went around the house, inspecting every flower and bush. Finding that some looked a little thirsty, he took the watering can down to the creek. He pushed the cloak away from his hands and knelt down, leaning over the edge to reach the water. His balance was a little flimsy as he bent, and he wobbled a bit on his toes. As he stooped over to fill it, he flicked his eyes up long enough to spot a glowing pair of eyes lurking in the distance. They stared straight at him, an eerie yellow against the black canvas.

The watering can half full, he yanked it up and nearly fell backwards in his haste to stand. Instead of running off like he’d hoped, the eyes inched closer. With a screech he launched off, around the house, clutching the watering can close to his chest. Water splashed down his front, soaking his shirt. He jerked his head around, watching behind him, and failed to see a rock. He tripped over it, stumbling and landing on his hands. Breathing hard and looked back again

A wolf. An actual wolf, not like whatever Bro was, slunk around the clearing's edge, tracking his movements. It's huge, with thick legs and dark fur, its paws sinking into the earth with each step. John started crying again before he could even stop it, tears pouring down his cheeks, and his vision turning fuzzy at best. He scrubbed at his eyes but the sudden movement sent the wolf lurching towards him, jaws agape.

John tried to scream but it stuck in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his arms up in a pitiful attempt at self defense, the watering can soaking him completely as it emptied over his head. His thoughts should be racing, his life flashing before his eyes, but it never happened, instead everything went blank and he couldn't form a coherent thought. He prepared for the long teeth sinking into him, ripping him apart.

But they never came. Instead a growl, deep and rolling, threatening and territorial, vibrated through the air. Forcing himself to look, he cracked one eye. About three feet in front of him, Bro stood, his shoulders hunched up and ears flat. In his hand there was a sword- where did he get that? John blinked, bewildered, and sat in stunned silence as Bro flashed and was suddenly gone, then reappearing next to wolf his sword held dangerously close to its throat. With an adequate size comparison, John realized this wolf was far larger than a natural world, its shoulders almost as tall as John and reaching Bro’s abs. Briefly, he wondered where the hell all these strange things had come from, and what was going on.

Everything stood perfectly still, and John wasn't sure if he was breathing in the stillness of it all. He watched every stiff line in Bro’s back. Watched the slight ripple of his muscles as his whole body jerked. Then he was left in a stupor because quite suddenly, they were gone, only just the slightest rustle of leaves as trace they were there at all.

"What the hell."


	2. I'll Protect You, Dear

John arrived back home to a concerned father. He fretted over John, hands flying across his shoulders and the dirty patches on his pants where he hit the ground. John shooed him away, insisting that he was fine. Nothing happened. He just lost track of time in the garden, that’s all. His father gave him a weary look, but accepted the story none-the-less. John was led into the kitchen where Dad had dinner ready for him.

It was delicious, a bit on the cool side, but John supposed it was because he was later than usual. They ate with only the occasional words exchanged. He felt as though he should be breaking down, or crying, or hugging his father and telling him how glad he was that they’re okay and alive. But he couldn't bring himself to do it so he sat quietly listening to Dad when he told him something, even making noises to pretend he was listening. When dinner was over, he excused himself to his room, flopping on the bed and sitting there mulling over the events of his day in his head, trying to find some explanation for it. Any of it.

First, he got “attacked” by a humanoid wolf. Saying humanoid made Bro sound like a robot. John figures he could be. The forest was weird. Either way, he was positive he'd never heard of wolves that looked like people. Except he didn’t. Not really. He was too large, muscled, his voice had too much of a growl to it. Bro definitely wasn’t like a human, despite looking like one. And dressing like one. He dressed like a douche, honestly, John thinks. Though his look was missing something. Popped-collar polo shirt? Check. Too-tight black jeans? Check. Dumb face wear? Check. A hat. That’s what he was missing. John shook himself out of his haze. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about how natural a hat would look on Bro!

Second, he gets to Nanna’s and she saw right through him. He couldn't help but feel like she knew more about this. Whatever this was. She was always so reluctant to talk about what she knew about the forest or things like that. But she was his sweet old Nanna. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Just because Nanna never talked about anything didn’t mean that she was purposely hiding things from he and his Dad. Actually, maybe his Dad knew too.

John groaned, rubbing his face and trying to shake the uneasy feeling. Maybe she’d never mentioned weird human-shaped wolves and huge mutated beasts because he’d never asked. Who thought to ask that stuff anyway?

Third, the huge mutated beast. Wolf. Actually, he wasn’t even sure if it was a wolf. John was nearly positive wolves in this forest weren’t supposed to be that huge. Timber wolves could get enormous, sure, but he didn’t think timber wolves lived in this area. In fact, he’d never even heard of them being this far east. There could be some secret government lab on the far side of the forest manufacturing animals and this one had gotten away. But that made no sense. Actually, that would explain why no one ever went that way. The story in town was that the forest just never seemed to end if you went that direction. It wasn’t thick like the part he walked through, light actually touched the ground there. But it took too long to reach the other side so no one ever went through.

This was getting him nowhere. John shook his head and crossed his arms over his eyes. All he was doing was confusing himself more and thinking of crazy explanations that made no sense. But still, there was something off about the forest, he’d always known that. He rolled over onto his stomach and hid his face in his pillows. With a groan, he pushed himself off the bed and trotted to the living room.

His father sat, pipe in hand, on the couch. There was a book on his lap that he looked up from when John came in the room.Without a word, he flipped it closed and put the pipe to his mouth, gesturing to John to sit with his free hand. John had always appreciated that his Dad never asked questions, or needed to be told “we need to talk” or any silly conversation starters like that. One look at John and he always just knew. It was something John had grown fond of, even if as a child he’d assumed his Dad was a mind reader. There was just something very fatherly about it.

When he sat down at the other end of the couch he turned to face his Dad and nibbling his lip, the elder man had twisted as well, facing him with a look of parental affection. It was soothing, but also a bit nerve wracking. Like he already knew what John was going to ask. As the silence stretched a bit longer than comfortable, one slim eyebrow began to creep toward the brim of his fedora. John hesitated, then decided to just ask.

“Dad does it seem like there’s something... off about the forest?” If John had looked away from his lap, he would have seen the flash of something dangerous in his father’s eyes. But he didn’t, and so it was lost to him.

He puffed his pipe once, then as he let it out spoke, “I don’t think there’s anything incredibly out of the ordinary for this particular forest, John. Why do you ask? Did you see something strange today?” His eyes twinkled with something that John also didn’t catch. If he’d been paying attention, it would have been obvious that his father knew something.

“Well, not really, I guess. I just think that this forest seems so weird sometimes. An-and I might have seen something odd.” This time his Dad leaned forward and clasped his shoulder, forcing John to look up at him.

“John what did you see?”

John fumbled nervously over his words. If he said wolf, his Dad might never let him leave the house alone again. But he would also know if he lied. So he stuttered out, “Uh-uhm it was a wolf, I think. But I didn’t see it, just its eyes.” The hand on his shoulder tightened almost painfully and his father tugged him against his chest, holding him tight.

“You didn’t stray from the path did you? It didn’t come after you? Where did you see it? Why was it weird? John what happened?” Dad’s eyes scoured over him, hunting for injuries he wouldn’t find.

“Dad, I’m fine. I didn’t leave the path, actually I saw it right by Nanna’s garden. I went to get water for the flowers and it was watching me.” He paused, taking in his father’s reaction. His face had went from worried to grave instantly the moment he said Nanna’s, and he realised his mistake too late. “Bu-but anyway, it was weird because it seemed way huge. Like a lot bigger than a normal wolf.”

He nodded thoughtfully, lips pressed in a thin line and eyebrows creased together. Then his Dad seemed to agree, making a soft noise. “Well, it’s commonly believed that witches used to live in this forest. They’re long gone, of course. Just rumors and fairytales now. Possibly one of their doings?”

John caught it this time, something was being hidden beneath those words. He had a hard time with the fact that his Dad was lying to him; he never lied. Yet here he was, being lied to by the man he thought would never lie. Of course he also told his own little lie. Was withholding information considered a lie? He supposed it could be, and really hoped his Dad wouldn’t be too upset with him.

“Like a witch cursed a wolf or something and it grew freakishly huge? Seems like a stupid curse.” The man appeared to consider this for a moment.

“No, I don’t believe so. Maybe they did it for protection. There’s stories of travelers through the forest would carry charms with them to protect them. Might be from the witch and her guard. Witches were quite despised, of course, so she’d need a something to keep them away.”

Maybe John should tell him about Bro. It felt like something he should tell him, especially since, if, he was still alive he might be back. “There, uh, was somethi- someone else.”

“Someone? John you met someone in the forest? Now that is quite odd. Who was it?”

John chewed his lips hard enough for the skin to break, and the blood bubbled onto his lips. He sucked it away, refusing to look at his Dad. “He was, uh, a wolf. But he was like, human? He looked like a person but he wasn’t.” His father looked vaguely confused for a moment before scowling.

“What did he want with you?” John winced, those fingers back to digging into his arms and holding him still despite how badly he’d love to leap up and run from the room, from the conversation.

“He said he was going to protect me, he walked with me to Nanna’s. When I went to get water and noticed the actual wolf, he showed up and saved me when it started coming towards me. But he just kinda, appeared next to it and everything went really still then they disappeared together.”

His dad pursed his lips, and released his grip on John’s arms. Automatically, John reached up to rub them and whimper at the tenderness. The man gave him an apologetic look before leaning back against the couch. When he spoke again, his voice is stern, “John don’t interact more than necessary with him, don’t trust him, and don’t tell him anything personal.” John felt sheepish, and stared holes into the carpet but nodded none-the-less.

Knowing where you lived was personal. But he hadn’t exactly told Bro, he’d just been watching John so technically John hadn’t broken the rules yet. Dad sighed, long and exasperated, before reaching over and rubbing John’s back. That just made John feel worse about the whole ordeal. This conversation was over, he didn’t want to say something stupid so he stood up and stepped in front of his Dad, bending down to give him a hug. They said goodnight, and John went off to bed.

John changed into his pajamas, making sure to put his dirty clothes in the laundry so they’d be washed tomorrow. He went about doing his before bed routine; using the bathroom and brushing his teeth, he considered showering but decided to leave that for the morning, then he layed down, turned off the lamp and pulled the blankets around him, closing his eyes and trying to fall asleep.

Sleep never came though. For a long time, John tossed and turned, rolling from one edge of the bed to the other. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, thinking of everything from today. It was clear that his Dad knew something he didn’t want John to know, and there was a possibility Nanna knew something too. He wondered what happened to Bro and to the other wolf. If Bro had fought it and won, or if he didn’t. That thought made him nervous, Bro was creepy and seemed to be a stalker but he had saved him earlier and he hadn’t done anything particularly wolfish to him. He was kind of a dick, sure, but he was pretty nice. And kind of attractive.

John squished that opinion as soon as it popped up. No. Not going there. It wasn’t that he thought it was weird to like guys, he just hadn’t thought of dating anyone, not even girls. In town he saw pretty girls but he didn’t really have any desire to talk to them, let alone date them. Same with boys though, he saw them and noticed the cuter ones but never talked to anyone. He didn’t have much of a female figure in his life besides Nanna, and his father never talked about dating, so relationships were something that never crossed his mind. Sure, sometimes he thought about what it’d be like if he ever met a girl and got married. John always figured one day he’d meet a nice lady, but that wasn’t to say he’d completely written off the idea of dating a man. It was a curious thing to him. But dating in general was a notion he didn’t dwell on much.

The thing with Bro was, obviously, he was not normal. So there would be no normal way for a relationship. Also, he was clearly much older than John. He’d kind of hoped to find someone more his age. Barely a teen, John couldn’t fathom finding someone who was probably twice his age interesting enough to date. And that was if Bro would even want to date him. Just because he’d shown the slightest bit of interest in John meant nothing. He could purely just be protecting someone he viewed as a little brother. Thinking of it that way stung, and John winced.

His thoughts continued to wander until he finally managed to drift asleep well into the night.

The sun was already well into the morning sky when he woke up, surprised that his Dad hadn’t come and gotten him. He stumbled around, still drowsy, collecting clothes for his shower. When he started the water, he glanced at his reflection. Sleepy bags hung under his eyes and he groaned. The shower was warm as it washed over his body and he relaxed under the spray. After nearly falling back to sleep, he got out and went about his normal morning routine. His hair was damp and clung to his face even after he puffed and dried it with the towel. Glaring at his reflection he stalked out of the bathroom.

Today he didn’t have to take anything to Nanna’s and his Dad needed help with some chores around the house. But first, he needed breakfast. Eggs, sausage and toast were awaiting him in the kitchen and he set about stuffing as much into his mouth as he could, washing it down with orange juice. Dad appeared shortly after he sat down and asked for help. John agreed and once he was finished eating and cleaning his plate, followed his father outside.

They went into town together to do their weekly shopping. The bags were heavy on their way back, but neither of them complained until they were home. Sorting groceries was John’s job. Meanwhile his dad changed his shirt and grabbed the toolbox before heading outside.

A fence needed to be built around the garden, and it took them most of the day to get half of it done. By the end, John was a bit sunburnt and exhausted. When his Dad said they could go in for dinner, he promptly went in and collapsed onto the couch. A soft chuckling was heard from the kitchen as the elder man washed up and prepared dinner. They ate in peaceful silence, then bid each other a goodnight and John headed to his room while his Dad went into the living room.

Their schedule was so simple and never varied much. It was nice, in a reliable way, though a bit drab. John couldn’t help but wish that Bro was okay, purely because it brought some excitement into his life. Guiltily, John noticed it was a selfish thought to only want Bro to be safe for such a stupid reason and berated himself for it. He sat up for a little while, doing a whole bunch of nothing, then laid down.

His endeavors in sleeping were much the same as the night before, although this time for a different reason. He was excited; he got to see Bro tomorrow! All through the day his thoughts kept coming back to the man and distracting him. His excitement, however, kept him awake until he could see the moon in his window. Nearing dawn, he finally fell into sleep.

Morning went much the same as it had the day before, right down to almost dozing off in the shower. But around noon, when he grabbed the basket of prepared goods and his hood, his Dad came up to him. Telling him to be careful- same- and to not stray- same- and to go straight there and straight back- same. Then Dad patted his head and told him to avoid the “wolf” as much as possible. John knew what one he was talking about,and agreed readily, fingers crossed behind his back and they both knew he was lying but neither of them said anything. It was better for it to remain unspoken.

John was out the door before his Dad could change his mind, basket bouncing off his hip as he nearly skipped to the edge of the clearing. He was a manly teenager. The manliest. His little cape fluttered around him as he slowed down on the path. It was too uneven to go quickly, and he feared he’d trip over a stray root that snaked across.

Still, he was on the lookout for wolves of any sort, scanning the area around him while he walked. His nerves got the better of him the farther he walked, and he jumped at the slightest noise. The trees closed in around him. It steadily grew more dim and eventually even the sparse light from above was dulled to small beams. But John knew the path by heart. Not needing to see the way, he kept his eyes trained for any movement and his ears for any sound. He noticed that it was much darker than it should be, even with how long he’d been walking. Looking up explained nothing to him, then he heard the rumble of thunder. The trees were thick, so he didn’t worry about getting wet. But the limited amount of sunlight was a problem.

As the sound of rain hitting the canopy of the forest filled the air around him, a faint light began to spring up from the ground. When it rained his Dad always kept him inside, worried that lightning would strike a tree near him. Curious, he stopped and examined the little sources of light. John was quite surprised to find small mushrooms. They glowed faintly in various shades of blue and green and near the path did not got bigger than his hand. He’d noticed them other times; white and not very good tasting. They weren’t poisonous, were decent if sauteed, and overall very plain. It was a shock that they glowed.

As the rain came down harder, some fat drops dripping down through the leaves, John abandoned the mushrooms, using the others lining the trail as his guides. Time passed, and when he found the odd stone marking the middle of his journey he came to a stop. Standing by it he waited, Bro had shown up around here the other day, maybe he’d come back.

He waited.

And he waited.

Quietly, he called out a shaky, “Bro?” into the pitter patter of the forest. There was no response. Worried, he leaned around the rock, searching what little of the woods he could. Larger mushrooms grew away from the path, but they glowed less and weren’t much help. Sighing, he leaned against the cool surface, and called out again.

Bro, on the other hand, was sitting off behind a tree. Eyes watching the little boy with acute sharpness. He’d been following the teen since he’d entered the forest, keeping a safe distance and prowling about. John’s voice called out for him, but he made no move to join him. Instead he stalked closer, creeping around behind John. Bro inched towards him until he was crouched against the stone opposite John. Still out of sight, he reached up. From this close, he could hear each of John’s small breaths and the soft thumping of his heart. Closer, closer, until his fingers hovered over him.

Then he reached down and slapped his hands over the boys mouth, stifling a scream. John kicked and flailed, same as last time, until Bro stepped around the stone and tugged him against his chest. John relaxed almost instantly, peering up at him then grinning against Bro’s hand. The young boy babbled into the skin excitedly until Bro finally let his hand drop, resting innocently enough on John’s collarbone.

John continued to chatter and peep bouncing in his hold, head resting against his abs and craned so he could look up. He wasn’t listening to a single word, however. Instead memorizing every twitch and pull of John’s cheeks. Working each detail of his face like this into his mind. John was much cuter when he was bubbling with joy, Bro decided. It took him a moment to register the silence, John’s round face blinking up at him awaiting an answer to a question he hadn’t heard.

“You’re awfully happy to see me, kid. What’s with the sudden change in attitude?” John’s cheeks flushed a pearly pink, and he averted his eyes but didn’t move his face. He toyed with his hands, twisting his fingers together and untwisting them.

“I was worried. You didn’t do anything mean last time so you’re kind of nice i guess, but you just vanished with that wolf and I didn’t see you. I was scared something happened to you.” His voice trailed off at the end. John looked so small and sad in his arms. Bro quirked a grin and reach his other arm around him, cocooning around John and giving him a hug. John’s hands reached up and clung onto him.

“Sorry kid. You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout it again.”Bro freed one hand from John and reached up to comb the boy’s hair. John spun around, looping his short arms around Bro’s waist and burying his face into the fabric of his shirt. The blonde gently rubbed his hand up and down John’s spine, feeling him arch into the touch.

“What’d you do?” John glanced up at him, and Bro scooped him up, heading towards Nanna’s. It was quiet, John curled up in Bro’s arms and let himself be rocked back and forth.

“I took care of it, don’t worry. You won’t see it again. Ever.” The implication behind those words both calmed and scared him. But he didn’t have to be frightened of the wolf anymore so he thanked him despite it.

“Uh-uhm... what even was it? Like, I know it was a wolf but that wasn’t normal!” He didn't respond right away this time either, and he carefully chose his words when he finally did.

“There are wolves like that all over the dark areas of the forest. This area was its territory,” John froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. “But since I got rid of it, it’s mine now. No more will move in, you’re safe.”

“That’s not really what I wanted to know...” Orange eyes darted down to him, he flustered and looked forward, continuing, “I mean, what are they? How did they get so big?” Bro could practically hear the multiple question marks in the boy’s words. Heaving a sigh, he answered.

“They’re... special. A witch created them a long time ago to protect the forest from humans, when they first began to build the towns surrounding it. She was worried they'd chop too many trees, so she made those wolves. But it’s been so long, they stopped caring about their duty. Most of them don’t even remember.” There was a hint of sadness in Bro’s voice and his eyes. John leaned his head against his chest.

In a whisper he asked, “You were one of them, weren’t you?” It’s a question, but the way he said it makes it seem like it wasn't, that he already knew. Bro didn’t speak, just nodded and kept looking straight ahead. The two fluffy ears on the top of his head had drooped just a fraction. John wiggled around until he could latch his hands around the back of Bro’s neck, tugging himself up and hugging him tightly. Bro didn’t stop walking, but he brought his arms to hold the boy there against his neck. John’s voice hummed off his skin, “Who was the the witch?”

Bro twitched but stays silent. Even when John pulled back enough to look up at him he said nothing. It grew brighter around them, the trees thinning gradually. They were nearing Nanna’s house, and John looked forward in anticipation.

Finally, the path opened out ahead of them and her quaint home came into view. He expected Bro to put him down, but he didn’t. Bro carried him up to the edge of the garden, then carefully put him down. John stretched his limbs, feeling them pop. Orange eyes never left his body, John could feel their warm gaze on his back. When he turned around Bro was still watching him, so John offered his arms out. Bro’s lips tilted upward for the briefest of seconds before he held his own arms out and John flew into him, his basket knocking Bro’s side. He mumbled a muted 'thank you' into the man’s abs before turning and going inside.

Nanna’s house looked no different than it did the other day, and his routine stayed exactly the same. He set the food out for her, tidied up the house, then collected her clothes so he could wash them. Bro was not around when he went to the stream, but he suspected he was not too far away. The water was cool, but at least the rains had stopped. John scrubbed her clothes, making sure they were all clean, then headed back to the garden. There was a small clothesline slung across flowers where he hung them. On checking the flowers, he was pleased they had gotten enough water in the storm. She was done eating when he went back inside, so John took care of her dishes, making sure to pack the leftovers for her.

Nanna appeared to have expected it when he sat down next to her. She smiled softly, asking what he wanted. John hesitated, not sure how to start. Then he just kind of blurted it all out at once.

“Are you a witch?” Except the sentence was one word and she gave him a quizzical look. He repeated himself, slower and she didn’t seem surprised at the question either. She nodded slowly, and he had almost anticipated that after everything.

“Yes. I take it you met Dirk?” At the confused look John gave her she clarified, “Bro, I suppose he’d like to be called. Hoo hoo.” Her laugh was easy but there was a twinkle in her eye. John confirmed it though, and told her what Bro told him about the wolves. “Well, you see, I’ve been around for a long time. I was much younger then, you know. I was afraid something like this would happen, though. I’m glad Dirk’s still looking out for the forest, even if the others have lost their wits.”

“That actually explains a lot. But I’m still confused. Did grandpa know? Do I even have one? What about mom?” She shushed him with a kindly smile. “Dear, your grandpa knew. He’s been gone for a very long time. Your mother is a different story. She was around, but you were much too young to remember!” Her laugh had a ghost of sadness edged to it, “She had an accident, and me and your father decided it’d be better if we acted as though she were never there at all. Sorry dear, you must have been so confused.”

John frowned and mulled everything around in his head. He supposed it was okay, since he always assumed he didn’t have a mother he wasn’t too upset by the lack of one. He kind of wished they hadn’t hidden anything from him, though. “Wait, a very long time? Uhm. Nanna, how old are you?”

“Hoo hoo hoo!” She didn’t answer him. Instead, she went off about something else, “John sweetie, your father doesn’t know about the wolves, well at least that they’re my fault. Be a dear and don’t tell him.” She pressed a finger to her lips, “Dirk will keep an eye out for you, I won’t say a word to your father about it, and you won’t tell him about what I did.” It seemed a fair bargain so he accepted. Nanna gave him her sweet smile again, and waved him over. Her hugs were soft and smell like baked goods, pleasant. “Anytime you’d like to spend time with him, go ahead and tell your Dad you’re coming here, okay?” John flushed, sometimes how much she seemed to know startled him.

With a cheerful goodbye, she shooed him out of the house, telling him to give Bro her regards. He left with a bounce in his step and feeling a little less confused. He was also a lot more confused, but at least about different things. And feelings. He was a lot more confused about his feelings.

Bro was waiting for him at the very edge of the trees. John skipped up to him, throwing his arms around his waist. The blonde didn’t miss a beat; catching him and spinning him around. He hoisted John up into his arms and started walking towards John’s home.

“Get the answers you wanted?” Bro looked down at him and John grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Good. Ya know, she was Jane when I knew her. It’s been a long time.” John hummed in agreement and nuzzled against Bro’s chest.

The rest of their trip was quiet, save for John humming any little piece of song he can think of. Once in while, Bro would join in the break between songs and hum his own, much deeper than John’s. It echoed through his chest and sent shivers down his spine. The mushrooms stopped glowing, and when John asked about it Bro just responded with a quick, “What do you expect? It’s not raining anymore.” So that’s that.

They parted at the edge of the forest by John’s house, their hug lingering a bit longer than necessary, and John promised to see him tomorrow. Bro gave him a look but didn’t say anything against it, instead vowing that he’d be there. He patted john’s back, nudging him out into the open with a final goodbye. John threw one last look over his shoulder before jogging to the door, waving behind him as he ran.

The door clicked shut and Bro slipped away into the forest.


	3. I Love You, Dear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no fucking excuse for why this took me four fucking months. On the upside this chapter is 9200 words alone, meaning it doubled the length of the fic.
> 
> Enjoy the smut you've all been waiting for. Also this hasn't been beta'd or looked over so maybe there'll be some changes later...
> 
> Here's the [tumblr link](http://lucifer-writes.tumblr.com/post/67331206859/are-you-lost-dear) so you can support me there

Over the course of the next few weeks, John would find excuses to go to Nanna’s, even after she was feeling better. She’d gotten over whatever she had and was up and moving around, her energy back ten-fold. Sometimes she’d tell his Dad that she needed John’s help for this or that to get the boy out of the house, and sometimes John would tell him that he needed to go and check on her garden or make sure she was okay. They both knew they weren’t fooling anyone, but Dad never said anything and went along with it.

John used his “Nanna Time” to hang out with Bro. Most of the time, they actually were at her house. They spent their afternoons tending the garden together while Nanna did little things in the house, giving them alone time. If she knew of the underlying affection budding between them, she didn’t let on or she didn’t care. She’d bring them out fresh tea and sandwiches when they got lazy. They’d help her hang her laundry and she’d send out cookies for them. Nanna pretended she didn’t see their hands linger when they brushed together or the way they’d sit in each other’s personal space.

Other times, Bro would lead him off on an adventure off the beaten path of the forest. Together they’d play in small creaks the blonde knew of or would pluck wild berries. Bro never took him towards the back side of the forest, they always stayed in the half nearer to town where small animals didn’t hide in fear of the large beasts lurking. Light filtered in through the trees, bright and cheerful. Many small clearings littered the area, some with tall areas of grass and others full of flowers. The days they spent there, they would lay together, with John curled on top of Bro, and nap. Or they would pluck flowers and John would teach Bro how to make flower crowns. Once in while little bunnies would join them in the flowers, always hopping away with a tiny flower crown of their own.

At the end of the day, they bid their goodbyes to Nanna or the bunnies playing with them, and Bro would lead John back to his side of the forest. Before the break in the trees, each day John would untangle their fingers and slide his arms around Bro’s waist. And Bro would trap John against his chest with his huge arms. All their hugs lasted longer than strictly friendly, inching into intimate before they’d separate. Some nights, Bro’s hand would stroke over his cheek and John would lean into the touch. It’d disappear as soon as it was there and Bro would nudge him towards home.

The next day they’d do it all over again, but that never stopped the nagging in the back of John’s mind that said one day he’d go out and Bro wouldn’t be waiting for him. Even though Bro had proved he wasn’t a force to be tampered with, John feared something would happen to him. It was only the next day when he’d rush out of the house, his hood flapping around him, and Bro was waiting right where he always was that he’d calm down. Days when they weren’t going to Nanna’s, he’d take the basket with them, filled to the brim with snacks and water containers. His Dad had noticed, but never called him out on it.

John would ask about Bro’s life, sometimes. What he’d been doing since Nanna had done her magic, where he lived, what he ate. Bro was always quiet about it, never giving more information than strictly necessary. He had secrets, of course, and John knew that. There were things Bro didn’t want to tell him. He respected this and never pried, always changing the subject quickly. But John cherished the little bits of information he could obtain. Bro lived in a small crowded area, hidden away in the trees, in a small cabin; not much more than a hut. He built it himself. He raised a younger brother, who, had he not been affected by the magic, would be about John’s age. John asked if they could meet but Bro just gave him an odd look and said nothing more. Bro wouldn’t tell John his name either. When John asked about food, he merely waved at the basket and said that otherwise, he hunted small animals and found wild plants.

Bro never offered up information of his own, John always had to ask. On the other hand, Bro would sometimes ask about John, even though the boy was more than happy to provide information without being prompted. They would give and take information, each soaking up every little detail of the others life. Bro was surprised about how much he didn’t know about John from just watching him. It pleased him to learn new details of the young male.

And as they learned more about each other, the more intimate their relationship seemed. It felt less and less like Bro was merely protecting the child- a big-brother figure and a guardian- and more like he was suitor wooing him. Cuddled naps increased to nuzzling affectionately, John went from simply laying with him to curling against his neck with his soft breathes fanning the thin blonde hairs. Bro’s arms sunk from John’s shoulders to his waist, and gradually drifted towards his hips, holding the boy tight against his chest. Their hugs were no different, sliding easily into a romantic embrace with wandering fingers and needy touches.

John couldn’t help but feel as though everything was speeding a bit, confused as he was because he also felt it wasn’t moving fast enough. There was more he wanted to do. He wanted to touch and feel, he wanted Bro to kiss him all over and to possess him. Bro wouldn’t though, he was being considerate of the boy, taking things slow and easy. John knew why; because Bro was afraid of pushing him too hard. He wanted to let John set the pace, but John was too afraid to make the first move. Their relationship was a tango, and they danced around each on the line bordering lovers.

Bro couldn’t help but fret over their age difference. Even though he was out of sight, out of mind of society, John was not. He knew the boy was young, and that he’d want to do something with his life. Maybe get a job in town and meet a nice girl, move away. No matter how desperately he wanted to trap the boy and hide him away in the forest, he couldn’t do that because John could have a good life. Someday he’d get bored with Bro and it’d be a long ago fleeting memory of young affection. As teens are so known for having crushes that never last. And as afraid of hurting John as he was with his forcefulness, he was also terrified of John hurting him.

He was older, much too old for a young, beautiful thing like John. Someone who had their whole life ahead of them and deserved to world compared to an old guardian of the forest who deserved nothing and was tired of life, one who’d already raised a child and done his fair share of exploring. Bro know if he kept the boy he’d do something he’d regret. How frantically he wanted to shelter the boy, keep him to himself. But John needed to be free and Bro desperately tried not to fall for his cute charm.

John, however, wanted nothing more than to be held and kept. His thoughts of living with a pretty girl and raising a family were gone, and he wondered if it’d even be possible for him to be happy with that now. In the forest, there was always something to do. He had nothing to be afraid of, really. His eyes were opened- and Bro would protect him with his life- he’d been overreacting to everything all the time. The wolves were no more than wolves, now seeming to howl beautifully instead of frighteningly. The forest was no longer dark, but even on the greyest of days seemed to shimmer faintly with the glow of the mushrooms. He fretted over Bro, worrying about his well-being, but still the forest seemed a brighter place.

His worries were calmed with Bro’s large hand twining around his and the soft tug as he was pulled along. A confident smile and John was assured that Bro had been around for a time, and would be around for a long time more. So he drowned his fears in the pleasure of everyday life.

And as time went by, they ventured further and further away from the paths and stayed later in the day. Most nights Bro didn’t have him home until after the sun went down. His Dad would scold him with his eyes, but the effort was wasted on John who would do it again the next day no matter what.

Then one day, Bro took him towards the back part of the forest. He was silent the whole way, no matter what John asked or said, so John would chatter to fill uneasy tension of the forest. It had been about two months since they met; and they hadn’t spent much time apart. While they walked, the brush got thicker and the path disappeared, Bro’s fingers tightening around John’s and tucking the boy safe against his side. John dared not ask where they were going, knowing that Bro wouldn’t answer him.

Soon enough, they had reached what John assumed to be Bro’s house. It was small, like he’d said. Little more than two rooms with a roof. There was no paint decorating the wooden sides, the roof made of thatched grass. An air of loneliness and solitude, trees growing tight around the house leaving no yard or space for a garden. No windows adorned the house, it was nothing more than the basic walls and lid on a box.

They’d entered it, Bro saying nothing while John walked around the small area. The main room was the kitchen- some basic household things were there but most looked as though they were never used and had accumulated a thick layer of dust- and the living room. A tattered couch lay smack dab in the middle, with a slab of wood on rocks serving as a coffee table in front of it. There was a quilted blanket draped over the back and after a confused glance at Bro, the man explained Nanna had made it for him a long time ago.

Finally, towards the far side were two doors, and after Bro’s nod John had walked to them and opened one. His first attempt had opened up to the bathroom; narrow but functional. John shut the door humming thoughtfully as he reached for the other one. Sometime between him grabbing the doorknob and him opening the door, Bro had appeared right behind him. The heavy wood swung open, and John squeaked in shock.

There was a bedroom; furnished with the basics and incredibly messy. Clothes littered the floor as well as shattered pieces of metal from- what John could only assume- used to be swords. It was dim, yet in the corner stood a boy. A bit taller than him, built lean and long with Bro’s light blonde hair. Two long ears flicked back as he stepped forward and John could get a good look at his face; it was the soft face of a boy his age, with freckles blotting over his nose and pale skin. John expected a wolfish look, but instead he got the mischievous glint of a fox.

When he’d introduced himself- Dave- he’d mumbled barely loud enough to be heard and merely jerked his head towards John instead of offering his hand. Although he mumbled, he talked a lot. Mostly it was in circles and off on tangents, John learned. Bro had left the room at some point, leaving the two of them together. And despite his apprehension to them meeting, the two of them struck up a friendship right away. Or so it seemed to John. He couldn’t tell with Dave, but the faint twitch of his lips once in a while made John think that maybe he was okay with John too.

Eventually, the two of them left the room together to find Bro half asleep on the couch. Dave suggested they do something to him and John’s prankster gambit wanted to agree, but he fought it down and gave Dave a stern no- it seemed in no way to actually matter to Dave what he thought. John crawled up onto his lap and with a sneaky grin, relented and dug his fingers into Bro’s side at Dave’s urging.

And was promptly picked up and thrown over the back of the couch. He flipped off and landed with a thump, his shoulders flat against the floorboards and his spine stretched awkwardly upwards to his knees still hooked onto the couch. Dave’s peels of laughter didn’t help much, and he could feel the damage to his gambit being done with each little hiccup from Dave. Bro reached up and grabbed his knees, dragging him back to settle on his lap on the couch. He smirked down at John, informing him to not listen to Dave’s “fucking awesome ideas” again. When John pouted up at him, Dave rubbing his eyes in the background, Bro dipped down to kiss the plump of his lips.

It went silent. Dave gaping, jaw wide and eyes unblinking. John stared up at Bro, lips parting slowly and his cheeks flushing a deep red. Bro watched idly, waiting for a reaction. Then the little brunette buried his face in Bro’s chest and curled around him, hiding his burning cheeks. Bro didn’t say a word but he winked at Dave who grumbled something that John didn’t hear.

That had been their- and his- first kiss.

A few weeks had passed since then and though they kissed every day it was usually only once; right when Bro was dropping John off at his house at night. Each kiss was feather light in contrast to the tight grip of Bro’s arms around John’s waist where he held the boy up on his tippy-toes. John would wrap his arms around Bro’s neck and drag him down while Bro pulled him up. They would meet in the middle and their lips would touch ever so softly- at the beginning only lasting a second or two and gradually they had gotten longer- before Bro would separate them and hug the teen to his chest. He’d card his fingers through John’s curly hair while John would snuggle against him. It grew increasingly intimate as time went by.

Over the next few weeks Bro would hesitate outside John’s house, waiting for John to pick up on it. John was ecstatic to be with the man longer, happily twining their fingers and swinging them together. It never seemed to occurred to him that Bro was waiting for a purpose.

Every night, John would enter his home with a little bounce in his step and a smile on his lips. His late nights had Dad making dinner later than usual and most nights the food was ready already when he got there. They never talked about the relationship both of them knew John had with Bro. It was a sort of unspoken rule at the table.

John wasn’t ashamed of their relationship. Opposite really, he was very open about it even if he never said a word. Dad didn’t call him out and started keeping a little bit of extra food in the cupboards. When he went out, sometimes Dave would be there with Bro. Not often, but when he was, Bro held John less. It felt to John that Bro was ashamed to show Dave anything ever since that first kiss. With Dave, they had lunch as usual but the rest of their time was spent with the two blondes bickering or practicing their swords. John liked Dave, he just wished Bro would hold his hand and snuggle him even if Dave was around.

Dave seemed to get the hint, but instead of helping out by showing up less, he started to show up more. More days than not found the three of them together. On top of that, Dave made a point to place himself between the two of them any moment he could. Walking down the path? He was right next to John. Sitting in the field? He was sitting in the middle. Taking a nap? Dave was laying near John.

Getting fed up, John tried to initiate cuddling from Bro. Purposely letting their hands brush, only to have Bro shove his into his pockets. Curling up against Bro after he laid down only to have Bro roll away from him. They played cat and mouse. John chasing Bro only to have the elder male slip out of his hold.

One day, after Bro had sat down in the middle of the field and Dave had sat down awkwardly a bit away from him when he realised John wasn’t going to sit down first, John stomped over and plopped down onto Bro’s lap. The man below him stiffened, hands floating in the air for a moment. John shifted back, leaning against his chest and relaxing. Bro sat there unmoving for a moment, but then he wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist and held him loosely. John sighed happily, tipping his head back to meet Bro’s eyes. Orange looks back at him before glinting, then he leaned down to seal their lips together.

Dave rolled his eyes, making fake gagging noises in the background. John paid him no mind, focusing instead on the feel of his lover holding him, the heat radiating against his back, and the gentle thrum of a heart beating in time to his own. Bro pulls back just enough to glance his lips across John’s cheek. He hums a contented tune, fingers soothing over the soft folds of fabric clinging to John’s sides. Smaller fingers find his and lace through them, locking together and squeezing rhythmically.

The field is quiet, filled with the simple sounds of leaves rustling and small animals scampering about. Dave lays back and rolls away from the two of them, fiddling with something near him on the ground. They watch him briefly before letting their eyes sink shut as well. It takes just a few moments of Bro’s even breathing in his ear and hot arms covering him for John to fall into a light sleep. The wolf watches him, ears flicking about listening for any sounds of danger nearby. After another reassuring glare along the edge of their surroundings, Bro adjusts the two of them onto the ground, tucking his petite boyfriend against him.

His fingers brush through the soft dark locks, combing them away from John’s round face. At the touch, the boy nuzzles down into him, causing a small smile to quirk onto Bro’s lips. Engrossed in the adorable view laid out in front of him, he barely notices Dave slinking closer until the lithe blonde is perched on the grass beside him. At first, he stays silent, watching over them with a stoic look. Bro twists to peer up at him, waiting. He twines his fingers in John’s hair, hiding him from the light and Dave’s gaze.

Dave’s voice is sharp as nails and just as course, “Do you actually like him?”

He ponders the implications for a moment, waiting for Dave to elaborate. When he doesn’t, Bro speaks up with a nod, “Yeah. Somethin’ ya wouldn’t understand.” Dave scowls, face darkening and eyebrows crinkling. They catch each other’s eyes, holding them with the same burning intensity.

Dave breaks first, body going weak and crumbling down. He drags a hand down his face before pushing both into his hair. Bro slackens into a look of concern, reaching out to grab the back of Dave’s neck. The fox yelps when Bro drags him down, cradling the back of his neck and pressing him against his shoulder. Dave flails, grumbling before he relaxes. John mumbles in his sleep, but wriggles over to make more room. The three of them rest together, Dave clinging to Bro, something he’d never admit and Bro would never tell.

“Fuck.” The one syllable comes out so fed up and so exhausted. It was a charade, these last few days. Bro knew, Dave knew. The faux annoyance, the pathetic attempts to keep Bro and John apart. He was scared. Dave had been alone almost as long as Bro, except he never was alone. He had Bro. For how many long years had Bro been there? Nearly too long for him to remember being terrified without parents or anyone to watch over him. But he did remember some of it, namely the day Bro found him and took him in. He was scared of being alone again. Dave hooked his claws into Bro’s shirt, kneading it carefully. Bro slides the hand at the base of Dave’s neck into the feathery light hair, twisting it tenderly.   
“Ain’t gunna leave ya, li’l man.” Dave shudders and ducks his head, without saying a word. Bro ruffles his hair, causing chunks to fly up and stick out. Neither of them move after that, not even for Dave to fix his hair. Eventually, he feels Dave sag against him and his chest rise and fall regularly. Bro closes his eyes as well, cradling both boys against him protectively

When they next hang out, Dave is noticeably absent. John opens the door and skips out, expecting his usual hug to be interrupted by the shorter blonde, only to be scooped up into Bro’s arms and toted off. He squeaks, hands looping instinctively around Bro’s shoulders. When he shoots a questionable look at the elder male, he gets a smirk in response. They venture through the trees, Bro holding John aloft carefully. Making sure to not jostle or bump him against anything, Bro carries him about, ducking through leaves and stepping across rocks and streams. John asks where they’re going, but Bro hushes him.

It takes a while, but eventually they come to a small clearing. One they’d never been to before. Bro strolls out into the center and sets John down, the brunette tottering before gaining his balance. There are trees all around the area, creating a barrier from the rest of the forest. Just as the other areas though, the treetops create a canopy, shielding the area from most light. However a few stray beams dance through and light the ground. An air of ease covers them, lulling and soothing them. John takes a few tentative steps around, poking at the mushrooms that glitter brightly while hidden in the grass. Bro lets him wander as he makes his way towards the middle and waits patiently for John to be done.

John turns to see Bro, tall and statuesque in the center. With a grin, he bounds towards him and leaps, being caught and swung around. The motion even sparks a grin on Bro’s lips, catching John’s attention and forcing his laugh to bubble down. Bro bumps his nose alongside his before tracing along John’s jaw and nipping his ear. John squirms, giggling and blushing at Bro’s affections. Large fingers move from his waist to his hips, hoisting John higher along the firm chest. John leans his head against Bro’s neck, breathing in the scent of him.

Wood, trees, grass, he has the aroma of someone who spends their life outdoors, though John supposes that would be true. The lingering pure warmth under all of that makes it so Bro that John savors it, the scent of happiness and the forest. Bro rubs his thighs and hips, grazing past the swell of the boy’s ass before darting back to safer territory. John gasps, Bro’s fingers bunching his shirt up and teasing the silky skin decorating his frame.

Then he’s on his own feet again, pressed tight against Bro’s body but even on his tiptoes not nearly tall enough to kiss. Bro snickers, sensing the oncoming pout. In retaliation, John pushes Bro’s shirt up and bites down on the taut, golden skin. Without a single reaction, Bro merely takes John’s hands and covers them with his own. A smile blooms on John’s face, starting small before it’s full of teeth and happiness. He turns his hands inside Bro’s until they’re locked together.

Bro’s finally got his attention, no more waiting for it by the door as he drops the boy off, no more awkwardly hoping Dave would skitter off. They’d talked it over that night when they returned, Bro and Dave.

At first, Dave had been reluctant to hash out their feelings and problems, but when Bro plucked him off the ground and threw him over his shoulders like a rag, Dave conceded. They’d sat on the couch, both shuffling about and trying to not be so far apart it was weird but not so close they were uncomfortable. In the end, Bro had dragged Dave across his lap and made him sit right there until Dave poured his horrible girly feelings to him. Dave fought and struggled, whined and bitched, but he gave Bro enough to work from. Told him what Bro had already known. Bro stayed quiet through Dave’s ramblings and occasional rapping, humming thoughtfully when Dave needed a boost. It was embarrassing and pathetic on both of them. And they were never going to talk about it again.

Ever.

But it had settled some things between them, some past things and some current things. Dave had given Bro his own roundabout backhand sort of apology for interrupting the two of them, even offering to stay away from then on. Bro compromised with him, once every couple of days or so. Afterwards, they strifed; neither of them holding back and the rare draw of blood that was tended to immediately after. Bro made food and Dave actually tried to help. It had failed miserably but they tried. By the end of the night they felt so utterly domesticated it was offending. They sucked it up though, enjoying the time.

Now though, Bro’s got his cute lover in his arms, flushed red and beaming up at him. He focuses on that; the feeling of holding someone he loves. A silly notion, but at this point he no longer cared. He’d keep it to himself and no one would know.

“It’s pretty, when’d you find it?” John peers up at him, fringe shading his eyes. Bro takes one hand from John’s and pushes his bangs away, lingering over his plump cheek.

“Couple days ago, been meanin’ to bring ya.”

John hides his face in Bro’s stomach, his free hand reaching around to clutch Bro’s shirt. They sway on their feet, Bro rocking the two of them back and forth. Beams of light illuminate them and dance across their skin as the sun brightens above the trees. Mushrooms curl in on themselves and small animals frolic out into the field. They stand there, watching life awaken around them in the peaceful cranny of the forest.

At some point, John shuffles away from Bro to open the basket and procure their blanket, sprawling it out across the grass, forcing the long green strands to bend and create a cushion. Bro hovers behind John, not so subtly eyeing him up and down while John bends over to dig through the basket and straighten things out. John shoots a look back over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched over the rim of his glasses. And with an audacity Bro didn’t knew he had, John shakes his hips at him. The bottom hem of his cape, which he still wears regularly, has been crumpled up along the top of his shorts, giving Bro quite a nice view of the proffered backside as it bounces back and forth.

A high pitch squeal is his prize when Bro reaches out to pat John’s rump. John isn’t given time to spin around before Bro’s sidled up behind him, arms trapping John’s waist and pressing his frail body to him. John huffs quietly, knocking his head back into Bro’s abs. The blonde bends down, their lips grazing together before John catches Bro’s bottom lip with his teeth. Bro steps around enough to enforce more of a kiss, tongue probing against the seam on John’s lips. He hesitates, eyes opening, the vibrant colors wavering as orange meet blue.

Shaky permission is granted when John parts his lips just the slightest bit. Bro eases in, swiping his tongue across John’s lips and eventually his tongue. John pulls away from the intruding presence, but Bro presses forward, encouraging him with slick coaxing strokes. He tastes faintly of cake, Bro notices, but it’s nice. There’s no other flavor, just John and his pliant mouth connected to his. John follows Bro’s tongue as it traverses the planes of his mouth, is own tentatively sliding along and curling around it. Some sneaky maneuvering finds John in Bro’s mouth, teeth oddly in the way and tongue being sucked on. If Bro notices how weird John’s teeth are making the kiss, he pays it no mind, focusing instead on making John feel good.

He loops an arm around John’s tiny middle and shifts the two of them onto the ground. John’s plopped right on Bro’s thighs, twisted sideways to stay attached. Bro rubs his fingers up and down John’s ribs, dipping and rising with the shapes hidden under clothes. John makes to remove the cloak, but Bro catches his hands and pulls them down onto their legs. Taking both of John’s into one of his, he clenches the other into the fraying lace adorning the bottom of the cape.

Neither of them is sure how long they kisses, slow and steady, parting for a few moments only for Bro to pepper pecks along John’s cheeks, jaw, and neck. John rolls his head this way and that, giving Bro the access he’s looking for as he suckles on the creamy skin peaking out above the worn blue. Pricks of fangs litter his flesh, leaving tiny red sprinkles in their wake. Bro is sure to lap over the small wounds, licking any blood that may have formed. When he nips at the juncture of his throat and shoulders, John gasps and cants his hips up prettily. The noise goes straight to Bro’s crotch, blood rushing south when the boy’s thighs settle back over him.

When John doesn’t realize right away, Bro hopes for the best. But John tugs Bro’s hair, hat long gone by now, to pull him away. He’s stammering and bright red, face doing an excellent representation of a tomato while his mouth flaps open and closed. Even Bro’s face begins to heat up, coughing into his hand as he looks away. John wiggles off onto his thigh instead, then buries his face into Bro’s arm.

Swallowing around the lump of distress in his throat, Bro mutters, “Sorry, kid.” Apparently the amount of discomfort in his voice was what John needed because he starts giggling quietly, soon growing into a full-blown whole body laugh, including tears streaming down his face. Bro doesn’t fight the smile that creeps onto his face, or the airy chuckle that makes John absolutely shine up at him. All the laughter has died down the excitement he had going on, so with a little less awkwardness he pulls John back to him and lets their lips meet again, this time lighthearted and sweet. Pretty pink lips turn upwards under his, smiling into the kiss.

Bro subtly tilts them backwards until John’s back rests against the blanket. Heat and radiance burst around the two of them as Bro leans over and covers the boy’s body with his own. Blue eyes sparkle as light glints off of them and leftover tears of mirth leave them glossy. He jerks, a sweet sound of shock pouring out when Bro snakes a hand up his shirt, caressing the creamy skin. His voice is a pitch or two higher, whimpering noises at Bro as he rubs shapes into the flesh. So supple and yielding under Bro’s calloused fingers. John arches into the touch, fingers seizing the sheet in a vice grip. His hips urge upwards, finding nothing but open air. Whine trickle out, pleads and disapproval when Bro sits back on his haunches and lets his eyes roam the planes of John’s body.

Orange scopes out every rise and fall of his curves, the indents and hills, every swell and trough. An underlying hint of affection drapes over him, and John blushes, tilting away from the searing gaze. He fidgets, Bro’s knees trapping him on either side. Bro examines the rising color and John’s shifting eyes, avoiding direct contact. He takes the brunette’s chin in his hand, brushing his fingers across his neck and running his thumb along the abused lower lip. Buckteeth nudge against his nail when he dips it in, parting the full lips. Bro takes care to drag the pad of his thumb across the overly large set. He feels John swallow more than he sees, then he feels blunt nails dig into clothed legs.

John trembles, body taut with urgency and some unbridled emotion he can’t quite place. Not desire nor lust, but stronger yet than affection and need. When his fingers inch closer to Bro’s beltline, he’s the one that jumps. Bro lets him do as he pleases and John takes his time moving his fingers across the man’s pelvis, daring closer to the fly with each pass. Finally, Bro takes his hands in his and lays them over the button, high enough to keep John from feeling the twitch of his body’s instinctive reaction to having something so close. Sooty lashes flutter closed, a deep breath, and then John pops the snap. The noise echoes around them, a heavy sound of uncertainty until Bro pets John’s hands and palms, encouraging him to go farther.

If the button was loud, the scratch of the zipper being tugged open is deafening. John stills, hands shaking too bad to get it open any farther than halfway. Bro takes the useless hands away, holding them against his own chest safe and secure with one of his own while the other finishes the job. John’s looking away, head turned and eyes tightly shut to avoid seeing anything, but when thin, slightly chapped lips dance across his eyes and thick arms embrace him, he dares a peek. Of course, Bro’s boxers are still hiding mostly everything, it’s a step though. He worms a hand away from Bro’s to place it over the bulge and squeaks when it moves, cheeks burning. Bro feels his worry, making a muted noise of approval to alleviate it.

“John, you don’t have to do anything.” Even as he says it though, his voice is course and heavy with want. No matter the cost though, he’d never force him to do something that would make John feel bad or hate him.

Silently, John shakes his head and tightens his fingers, the shape of Bro standing out in the thin material. Bro locks his body, refusing to let it buck into John or do anything that could scare him. John takes a steadying breath and palms at the thick length, pressing his thumb down into the slit once a small damp spot forms. A low groan vibrates through Bro’s chest, making John stop and peer up at him. Bro’s fingers grasp at his boxers and slide them down, glancing at John who gives him a short nod.

John trains his eyes on the sight before him; Bro’s flushed cock, swollen and stiff, appearing inch by tortuous inch as he slides the elastic down over it, before springing free and bobbing against his abs. He expected it to be long, but it still was a shock. Standing tall and thick, with the flare of its corona wide and the head deep red, it’s intimidating to say the least. With an unsure hand, he reaches out for it. It throbs under his touch, pulsing and hot. Bro tilts his head back, moaning in that rough voice of his. Pre drips down the side and John swipes at it, using it to make his light movements easier. Whatever he’s doing, Bro appreciates it, hips rocking forward into John’s fist when he curls it around him.

All while he’s pumping his hand, John focuses on what he’s doing. Bro’s hand joins his, wrapping around John’s fingers and guiding his movements. Twist it the top, press a little harder, smear the beads of semi-opaque liquid around. Bro walks John through it, teaching him the steps and ministrations that would leave someone begging for more. John’s hand is small, too small to reach around Bro, but the larger tan hand makes up for it. They move in tandem until John curls his other hand around it as well. Bro lets go, leaning back while John works his cock.

Every movement is sloppy and uncoordinated, but it’s perfect. Heat pools in his gut, coiling and ready to crash over him until he gently nudges John away. Sadness sparks across John’s face, kissed away by Bro assuring him he did nothing wrong and that it felt great. Bro’s hand makes towards John’s bottoms, now sporting a slight bulge as well. He mewls, the noise turning into a high pitched keen when Bro presses his hand against it and rubs both layers of fabric against it. It stiffens under his hand, John’s breathing coming out in fast puffs or warm air. John’s hips move up of their own accord, and despite how badly he wanted to tease him, make him writhe and beg, Bro presses down into him, giving John the pressure he wants.

And he’s begging anyway, pleading with Bro to take his clothes off and touch him. So he does, sliding the shorts down until John can kick them off and then rolling his underwear down, listening to the sound of the waistband cling to his skin and snap with each roll. Once those are gone, they’re both pant-less in the middle of the field, the animals have scurried away to nap for the afternoon and they’re alone. So wonderfully alone, neither of them fretting over being caught or being stared at.

One warm hand slips back under John’s shirt, bunching it up around the boy’s collarbones before tweaking his nipples. He rolls it, pinches it, and flicks it, each touch making John’s back arch and his body jerk. Bro hovers over him, dipping his head to press the flat of his tongue against one perky pink nub. John yelps, fingers flying to Bro’s head and grabbing at him. Bro smirks before sucking it into his mouth where he lavishes attention to it, fingers working the other one before switching, giving them equal treatment.

With both equally loved, Bro mouths a line down the center of his stomach, stopping to twirl his tongue around the cute belly button, the sensation making John giggle and relax. Until the wet heat of his mouth surround the weeping head of John’s cock, swallowing it down in one swift motion. John nearly screams, fingers clawing at Bro’s hair while his hips piston forward, almost choking Bro who pins them down at the last second. He moans around it, the vibration making John sob.

Using his tongue on John’s erection as a distraction, Bro tugs a vial of lube from his pants. He hums around John, using the subsequent moan from John to hide the noise of the lid popping open. It’s chilly on his fingers while he rolls them together to make it more comfortable. John jolts upright, yanking Bro’s hair when the slick digits nudge his entrance. Eyes wide with concern, he pulls at Bro’s hair only for him to glance up through his pale bangs and smirk around the head of his cock. Cool fingers dance around the pucker, rubbing at his taint and creating just enough friction for John to whine.

John’s tight, almost too tight, when Bro inches in to the first knuckle. He clenches down around Bro regardless of the shushed murmurs of encouragement. Bro kisses his jaw, ear, cheek, eyes, any bit of skin he can reach before lowing back to John’s crotch and lapping a trail down his cock and whirling his tongue around his frenulum. It loosens John enough for Bro to wiggle his finger the rest of the way in. John pants, curled over him and clinging to his hair for dear life. Bro twists, eliciting a whimper, then curls it, feeling the small lump of tissue that has John gasping and moaning with one light touch.

Bro pays it special attention, massaging it to keep the teen relaxed while he slips a second finger inside. John stiffens, but slumps again when Bro uses both fingers to rub at John. He wriggles both digits together and thrusts them in and out, stretching the boy slowly. A third finger makes John sniffle, nails digging into Bro when he shudders. Three is a stretch, Bro notes, curling them and urging the tight body open. Coaxing noises from John, a mixture of pleasure and pain.

His fingers slip out with a slick pop, leaving John shaking and empty. John loops his arms around Bro’s neck, tugging him in for a kiss before pleading against his lips. Something. Anything. When Bro asked for clarification, expecting an innocent “I don’t know just do _something_ ” he gets instead John asking for his cock in the lewdest of ways. Bro groans, the noise pure want. He almost drops the bottle when he grabs it again, hurrying to open it. A hiss of displeasure gets by his lips when it’s chilly as he pours it over his erection, slicking himself up with a few constrained strokes.

John’s body heat warms it up as Bro slips along his taint, pressing against the silky skin of his balls and cock before lining up with his entrance. Meeting resistance doesn’t dissuade him, but he takes it slow and careful while John adjusts. John squeezes his arm to stop, and when he’s ready moves his hips even just a fraction.

They start up a slow, Bro rocking into John and John tucking into his chest. It’s tender, intimate and loving, their bodies surging together with every meeting of their hips. John’s thighs tremble, his back arches, breathing turns harsh. Bro holds him tight, pressing every inch of skin he can to the gentle heat of John’s.

As John nears his close, spasming and mewling each time Bro rocks against his prostate and brushes over the tip of his cock, he grows louder. Bro lets his own voice go, praising his petite lover in hushed whispers. His lips attach to John’s ear, warm air making the smaller male shiver and keen, arching away from him. John locks his ankles behind Bro’s back, scratching his fingernails across the taut shoulder blades with each movement. Everything is fuzzy, his body screaming in pleasure even when he’s stretched enough to make it burn. Bro clings just as tightly back, words of love and adoration filling both of them and spilling over in their hearts.

John finishes with a cry, body clamping down around Bro as he spills across his stomach and Bro’s hand. His vision blanks out, eyes open and unseeing while his lips part into a silent scream. Bro kisses sloppily along his jaw, still bucking into the vice around his cock. Tears bubble up and pour down his cheeks; Bro brushes them away and leaves featherlight pecks along the trails they leave. Sated and exhausted, John collapses back onto the ground, limp and woozy when he fumbles for Bro’s hands.

Bro pulls out, the motion makes John whimper. He thrusts back in and that has John begging him to stop, his over stimulated body quivering with the effort to not curl in on itself. Bro slips back out, lube and pre dribbling down John’s body as he does so. He’s still painfully hard, standing prominent and purple. John raises a weak hand towards it, managing to give Bro a few strokes before Bro crawls up his body and settles over his waist. John drops his hands to Bro’s hips, squeezing them and smiling up at him. Bro takes one in his own, pulling it up to his lips to place a tender kiss to every finger.

John expects him to make him do something, but Bro takes John’s hand and his own and wraps them around his length. John blinks blearily up at Bro while he pumps both hands, flying up and down in a brutal pace. John swipes his thumb over the slit, pushing Bro over the edge. He groans, splattering across John’s shirt still pushed around his neck and across John’s collarbones and face. Said brunette squeaks, flinching when it lands on his glasses, but doesn’t make any other noise. It leaves him sticky and a mess. But the blissed-out look on Bro’s face is a reward. His orange eyes are hooded and he slumps over John, sure to hold himself up.

When John drags a finger through the white material near his lips and pops it in his mouth, sucking it off, Bro twitches and his spent cock tries to release more. John giggles and finishes cleaning himself off when it appears that Bro isn’t going to be able to help.

Bro flops down next to him, throwing an arm over him and tucking him against his side. John rolls over and balls up against him, nuzzling contently into Bro’s chest. Late afternoon light floats down through the thick leafy overhead, waltzing across them. Bro cradles John to him, flipping the blue cape over to hide the pale body. John falls asleep, smiling peacefully. Bro watches him; fluffy ears crooked in and tail swishing about lethargically. Bro dozes off shortly afterwards, following John off into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

It is nearly dark when they wake up from their extended nap, yawning lazily. Bro fixes his clothes while John pulls his bottoms back on. They fix each other, cleaning left over residue and checking for stains. Bro scoops him up and begins the journey back. Mushrooms lead the way, following their own path that twists through the dense forest. John hums a tune, joined in by Bro once in awhile when he knows what song it is. John holds him tight, snuggling him and kissing along his throat and jaw. It’s distracting and pleasant, and Bro returns the favor by petting John’s sides. Back on the main path, he slows down and takes his time; leisurely wandering closer to the soft glow of moonlight that spread through the immediate area surrounding John’s house.

As they step into the clearing, Dad comes out of the house, hat tilted back and pipe perched between his lips. He says nothing, watching them as Bro strolls up to him. Despite his air of confidence, he was genuinely worried. Technically as his father, he could make John do anything. Including forbidding him from seeing Bro. It was odd, to think that someone he’d grown so very fond of was still so young that such a thing as a parent could easily snatch it away. John feels his apprehension, cuddling closer and peering up at him. Bro’s ears twitch down, flattening against the mop of hair. It’s an unaggressive move, trying to make himself seem smaller. Dad stops by the edge of the garden, waiting patiently with a blank look on his face, unreadable under the mask of stoniness.

Bro tries to stay confident, sure of himself, while he approaches the man. After all, Egbert’s shorter and narrower. But that could also not bode well for him; he’d heard about the elder Egbert’s carpentry and construction skills. He stops just a step or two away from him, trying to stay a safe distance and not look down at him. John squeezes him in a cute attempt to reassure him, but doesn’t offer any other support. Aqua eyes scan them over the two of them, though cleaned up they still look like a mess. John’s hair is flying all over the place, as is Bro’s, and there’s a few small bruises the size of a pencil eraser sprouting along the smaller one’s neck.

To anyone, it was quite obvious what they’d been doing. John had hope with every fibre of his being that his Dad would be in the kitchen when he got back. Of course one couldn’t get so lucky. He looks away in shame, feeling heat rise to his cheeks again. Bro tightens his arms around him, rubbing soothing circles into John’s side, hidden from view by the delicate cape. Bro flips the hood up over John’s head, Dad watching him with suspicious eyes. Bro shrugs casually, watching Dad with equally watchful eyes.

He sighs.

Then waves the two of them in, unlatching the gate and swinging it open. An invitation. Bro takes it, stepping into the garden and heading towards the door. Egbert steps around him to open that as well, waiting for Bro to enter with John before clicking it shut behind them and heading towards the kitchen. John tugs Bro’s shirt, pointing towards his room. His Dad gives them an odd look as they disappear around the corner from the kitchen. Bro reaches it with minimal directions from John. He takes step inside and taps the door shut with his foot.

Two long strides finds him kneeling on John’s bed, laying his small package down daintily. John winces, still sore, but brushes Bro off when he frets over him. Bro strips the boy for the second time that night, this time however he accumulates pyjamas and redresses him. John snuggles down into the covers of the bed, waiting for Bro to tuck him in. Which he does, carefully pulling them up around his shoulders and pushing stray strands of hair away from his face.

They share a chaste goodnight kiss, short and sweet and full of all the words they should be saying. Bro straightens up, and just as he turns the light out and is about to leave, John whispers a nearly silent “I love you” that Bro returns just as quietly. John’s happy sigh is the music accompanying the click of the door as it shuts behind him. With his own less-than-happy sigh, Bro ventures back to the kitchen, finding the elder male sitting at the table waiting expectantly. He gestures to a chair, which Bro sits down in as if on command.

“So. Your name is Bro, correct?” There’s a snare in his voice, one that suggests he’d heard things about the man from sources that weren’t the positive teen.

Bro nods but keeps him mouth shut, teeth pricking at his lips while he tries to not bite them.

“What business do you have?” It wasn’t phrased the way he’d expected, and apparently the shocked showed on his face because a sly quirk appears on Egbert’s.

“Janey asked me t’ keep an eye on him. Make sure he stays safe.”

“And does keeping him safe involve forming a relationship with him? Who, I might add, is still quite a bit underage and shouldn’t be thinking about those types of things?” There’s a bite to his words, poison dripping between his lips that makes Bro cringe away. He’d fucked up, yeah, he knew that.

“I’da never done anythin’ unless he wanted it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” Every syllable that flows from his mouth is laced with cyanide and sugar, so sickly sweet that the edge is clear as daylight. Bro stares him head on, stamping down the fear that ashamedly had formed.

“Yeah, believe me, I know, but that brat’s jus’ as precious to me as he is to you. I figure you been listenin’ to him ain’t ya?” Dad hesitates but nods. “Well then ya know that he’s happy to, ain’t he? If me stayin’ with him is gunna make him unhappy, then I’ll leave. But until then I ain’t goin’ nowhere so long as he wants me here.” Bro does miraculously keeping his voice level. There’s no anger in it, only conviction.

A long, drawn out sigh fills the room. Dad rubs a hand across his forehead, smoothing out the stress lines and wrinkles that have formed. “I always thought he’d grow up, move into town, marry a nice girl, and settle down with kids of his own.”

Bro gives him a hesitant smile, “He still can. I’m older than I’d like to admit, maybe he’ll get tired one day.”

Egbert looks up at him, eyeing him with a curious look, “Wouldn’t you be upset? Losing him like that. I… even I can see it, how much he means to you and you to him.”

This time when their eyes meet, there’s no fire or ice, just worry and concern for the one person they have in common. Bro scratches the back of his head, ears twitching about, “Well yeah, I’d be sad. But if he’s happy then it don’t matter.”

He gets a serene nod of approval in response, followed shortly by, “Thanks. I think I needed to hear that. But, if he doesn’t grow out of this, what will you do?”

Bro thinks about it for a moment, however only one thing comes to mind, “Keep him happy of course. Take care of him and fight away anythin’ that would hurt him. Jus’ cause I wasn’ plannin’ on getting’ attached doesn’t mean I’m jus’ gunna abandon him. John means…” His voice trails off and he swallows the rock that’s clogging his words, “Well I don’t say empty to words to anyone.”

Egbert nods again. He points towards the coffee maker, silently offering him a cup. Bro declines, shaking his head before standing up, “If we’re done here, I left my li’l bro back at home. Normally I wouldn’ care too much ‘cause he’s old enough but we had somethin’ planned.” He takes a step towards the door, still facing Egbert.

The smaller man stands up as well, leading the way towards the door. When they get there, he hesitates before offering his hand to the wolf, “It was a pleasure chatting with you. I expect you to not hurt my son.”

Bro takes his hand, shaking it once -quick and firm- before letting go. “Sure thin’ Egbert.”

“I expect I’ll see you tomorrow? No more lurking in the shadows?”

Sharp canines poke out when he smirks, “Of course.” With one final wave, Bro slips out of the door and out into the dark, moonbeam lit forest. He lets the mushrooms lead him home into the deepest part of the forest where even the sunlight doesn’t reach. After all, it was dangerous and one could never be sure what they would come across.


End file.
